


Vaulted

by Remenyke



Category: Fandombound, Fandomstuck - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers, Homestuck, MS - Fandom, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Character Death, M/M, well kinda death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1804711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remenyke/pseuds/Remenyke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fandoms often live short lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vaulted

Frigid cold air lay stagnant in the endless chamber.

On the other side of the metal door, a figure held his breath as he disengaged the locks on the solid metal, air-tight door.

It opened with a gasp, as if the room itself was actually gasping, stale air escaped through the door as fresh air flooded in.

Homestuck slowly exhaled, disappointment and resignation pulling his ever-frowning face further in a grimace. Another chip of his desperate, dying hope disappeared with the cold outward rushing air. It was foolish to wish for someone to be waiting for him behind the entry.

He took a moment to collect himself before taking the first step into the chamber.

Countless cylindrical tanks – each measuring a metre across and three in height – occupied the dark space in neat rows, carefully spaced evenly apart from each other so there was more than enough space for people to walk between them. The only source of light there was came from the platforms that formed the top and bottom of each tank, illuminating the figures they contained.

Homestuck’s normally soft footsteps seem to echo and thunder around the wide cavern as he strode, tracing long memorized steps towards his tank.

_D._

_Breathe in._

_M._

_Breathe out._

_MD._

_Breathe in._

_MM._

_Breathe out._

_MMD._

_Breathe in._

_MMM._

_Stop._

He hesitated, just as he had every time before, then made the turn down the row of tanks marked MMMD.

His breaths involuntarily quickened the further he went, fists clenching and unclenching in the pockets of his jacket. He was subconsciously counting the number of glass cylinders he passed and slowed down as he got closer to his intended destination.

Just four tanks to go…

A smile curved on his lips as he came into view. It quickly faltered, warping into a weak one.

“H-hey, look who’s here to visit you, Hetalia,” he murmured, staring at the sleeping face of his moirail.

~~

  
Fandoms don’t disappear when their people leave them. They simply fall into coma just as the last fan locks away memories of it. Depending on how swift or violent the end occurs, the fading fandom may lose parts of its body. Some were missing limbs, skin greying, torn and mutilated, while others were so disfigured, it was almost a blessing that they could not feel or see themselves.

Hetalia was just as Homestuck remembered; a handsome, shorter-than average man with lightly tanned skin and a crown of beautiful brown hair. His worn, leather jacket was still the exact same colour as when he had fallen asleep. The orange and green symbol of his fandom peeking through his open jacket showed no signs of decay.

He made his usual circuit around the tank to check every visible part of his moirail.

“How are you today?”

One arm of his jacket was empty; passed on to another fandom near the end of his decline. It was an anime born in the twenties to which a good chunk of Hetalia’s fans had absconded to. Homestuck had distanced himself from the younger fandom. He could not stop imagining Hetalia attached to the newbie’s right arm only to be hit with disappointment and hatred each time he looked up to see the girl who inherited it (the troll refused to recognize it as hers).

He paused only slightly when he surveyed Hetalia’s back, ogling his round and perfectly plump behind. It was one aspect of his body they both agreed was mutually attractive. He cracked a smile at the memory of Hetalia unintentionally flaunting his bottom in public with his favourite pair of Italian skinny jeans that hugged rump in the most beautiful way. “Still flushed for your ass, ‘talia.”

He paused vainly, as if he would be able to hear Hetalia’s flustered response if he kept silent. With a sigh, he resumed his visual survey.

“You’re looking good,” he complimented, coming to a stop directly in front of the brunette. He had seen his moirail dealing with his 2P-self (i.e. trying to destroy each other) with nary a hair out of place, aside from his permanently extended and bouncing curl. Homestuck was convinced the man could look perfect doing anything. Hetalia had blamed his Italian blood for it; Homestuck agreed. Italians were also known for their affectionate ways, too, he recalled.

“I’ve been busy lately,” he started, sitting before the wall of glass. He leaned back on his arms to look up at his silent friend/lover. “Video games, animations, movies…you would know.”

“I must have mentioned it before, but remember that SuperWhoLock bullshit the bastard trio came up with in the ‘10s? First joint movie next summer,” he snorted. “Yeah, I know right? How come they get to become the crossover of the legends?”

“Those three have been so flushed with each other these days, man. I’m pretty sure ‘Nat's ‘demon-fighting lessons’ weren’t supposed to include those disgusting sounds coming from their shared suite,” he groaned, violently rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands. It didn’t do anything to get rid of the horrible mental images. “The nights are brutal! Those motherfuckers go at it for hours…”

At some point while he during their one-sided conversation, Homestuck sat down with his back against the glass tank. It was easy to pretend that Hetalia was conscious and aware that he was there when he couldn’t see the man.

He hoped he was at least listening.

“…those other anime fandoms your papa spawned are doing well.” That was all he knew about them.

He had run out of non-touchy things to talk about.

Homestuck didn’t like this emotion weighing on his chest. It reminded him too much of his characters trapped in doomed timelines.

“You know, there were calls to bring you back…my fans tried to revive you.” So did I… “But it’s like you never heard any of it.”

His obsidian black, yellowed rimmed eyes darted up to look at Hetalia’s closed ones. He would give anything to see those hazel-colored eyes open again.

Homestuck could remember as if it was yesterday that Hetalia asked him about his love-hate relationship with Supernatural after he caught them sucking each other’s faces off in the common room.

The shorter man’s gaze was wide, partly in curiosity, mostly in hurt. Hetalia couldn’t understand how they could be in what was supposed to be a relationship yet the grey-skinned fandom could so publicly cheat on him. To the part-Alternian, the affair with Supernatural wasn’t an act of unfaithfulness.

That night – after a long and arduous explanation on the Alternian relationship quadrants – was the first time Hetalia said the words that appropriated their relationship.

“…pale for you,” Homestuck whispered. His frown deepened when his words met silence. He tilted his head up to see the same emotionless face that hadn’t changed in six years.

“And you were so damn terrified that everyone would leave you behind,” he bitterly laughed, “…how fucking ironic is this?"

“It’s not fucking fair, dammit,” he bit out, pressing his forehead on the back of his hands resting on his knee. “Come back, please, come back…”


End file.
